Like Another Teen Movie
by limeLILY
Summary: Harry, Ron and Draco are best buds. One night, they make a bet involving social outcast Hermione Granger 15 Galleons. First one to bag her wins the money -- and the girl. Let the games begin [R R]
1. One: So It Begins

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**Title:** Like Another Teen Movie

**Pairing: **DMHG

**Rating: **R

**Summary: **Draco, Harry and Ron are Hogwarts' Golden Trio. Inseparable since kindergarten, the three normally take pleasure in being the biggest wankers on the planet. But then they make a bet—one of them has to bag Hermione Granger before the end of the semester. Who will get first prize? [R R]

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Chapter One 

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"I got lucky last night," Draco Malfoy told his two best friends and fellow Gryffindors, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. They were sitting in the Great Hall, piling mountains of food onto their plates. The Great Hall was especially loud because it was dinnertime—and no one in his or her right mind missed dinner. Ron had built a mini Mount Everest and was working from his succulent lamb chops to his fluffy white mashed potatoes.

Harry looked at him in interest. "Who was the girl?"

Draco frowned and began to think—clearly, this was hard work.

"Or shall we just not jump to conclusions that it is in fact a _girl_," said Ron. "We don't know what you do behind closed doors."

"And we don't want to," Harry added.

"Amanda!" Draco said at last. "Wait, no… no… I lost it. But if it's any consolation she sure seemed to remember my name, if you catch my drift," he added, winking.

"Draco, I'm pretty sure Dumbledore would even catch your drift," said Ron, "If you know what _I _mean."

"Sure," said Draco, even though he didn't.

"Look," said Harry, "what he's trying to say is whenever you say something you can't follow it up with 'if you catch my drift' when it's completely obvious, 'cause even a ten-year-old could decipher what you just said."

Draco pondered this for a moment. "How can you catch a drift anyway? It's not like a ball, is it?"

Ron looked absolutely horrified. "Was this girl like… deaf or blind or something?"

"Well, no… but I'm pretty sure I was after what happened," said Draco, "If you catch my drift."

Harry slammed his head on the table. Ron mumbled some unholy words under his breath.

Draco tried to lift a girl's skirt up by blowing into the air.

They were different in their own way. Draco was the stud, Ron was the laugh and Harry was the voice of reason. They bore no resemblance to the other. Ron had flaming red hair and freckles, Harry had jet-black hair and fairly light skin and Draco had shocking silver hair and pale skin. However, they all managed to be a success with the girls—each had had two three-week relationships, two one-night-stands and five or six drunken snogs.

But none of them had gotten one girl—Hermione Granger. She sat opposite them on the long wooden table ignoring her food and reading a book written in Latin. Her horribly bushy hair was plaited down the middle and made her look awfully sophisticated and awfully old. It was a masterful mess. Even the boys joked if they ever ended up getting to snogging with hair-touching their fingers would probably get lost amongst all the bits of pieces people tend to sneak in there sometimes. They'd got in about fifteen. All it said was: I've recommended you to my stylist. She saw a picture and ran. They were really just plain cruel.

"Eh, Granger!" Ron said, patting his stomach from the mighty feed.

Hermione looked up and gave him a fake smile. "Yes?"

"What you reading?" he asked.

"A book," she replied.

"What's it say on the front there?" Ron continued.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Can't you read?"

Ron's face crumpled up. "Well, I didn't want to bring it up…"

"Now, look what you've done," Harry said.

"You've made him cry," said Draco.

"This is bull," said Hermione. "He can always read stuff in class off the blackboard."

"That's because the teachers let him come in early to memorise it so he doesn't make a fool out of himself," Draco said.

Hermione's look of triumph turned a look of panic. "Oh, um…"

"God, he's crying!" Harry said. "He's fucking crying, Hermione! He never cries."

"I-I'm sorry," she said, her brown eyes full of concern.

"Me too," Ron squeaked.

Hermione frowned. "Sorry?"

Ron lifted his head from his knees with no trace of a tear. He beamed at her. "Sorry you're so fucking gullible!"

The trio erupted in laughter. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, who were sitting close by, also joined in. Hermione was utterly humiliated.

She stood up, placed her book in her shoulder bag and turned back around to face them. "You are pathetic the lot of you. See how it feels when you get tricked—see how you like it." And with that she stormed off, angry tears streaming down her face.

"Er…" Draco began.

"Was that a threat?" Harry asked.

"If it was it was pretty lame arse one at that!" Ron exclaimed.

The three laughed again, patting each other on the back, because I'm afraid that's what boys do.

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"The look on her face," Draco chortled. "God, man… priceless."

It was eleven o'clock that evening. Draco, Harry and Ron were sitting in the Gryffindor common room still chatting about the events at dinner.

Ron snorted suddenly. "Sorry, just… God, that was funny!"

"Hey, do you reckon she will get us back?" Harry asked.

"No way! She's too smart with her books and shit to be wasting time fussing about us," Ron observed.

"Got a point there, Weasley," Draco agreed.

"But what if she's not," said Harry.

"Shut up, Harry. You're ruining our victory," said Ron.

"Sorry," blushed Harry.

"She is kind of hot though," Draco announced suddenly.

Ron and Harry burst out laughing. "What?!"

"She's got nice legs, nice boobs, good body. I mean, her hair's a horror, but she could wear a wig," said Draco.

"What have you got in mind, Draco?" Ron asked, laughing.

"You're role playing this early in the relationship?" Harry joked.

"Shut up," Draco said. "It's just an observation…"

The trio pondered this thought for a few moments. "You know, she does have nice boobs," said Ron.

"Awful temper though," said Harry.

"What if you didn't have sex the way she wanted to? It'd be like fucking a drill sergeant," Ron laughed.

"Oh, Ron," Harry complained.

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Ron said.

Draco suddenly sat up. "I got an idea."

"Cue light bulb!" Ron deadpanned.

"No, no, really," said Draco. He turned to Ron. "How much money you got, like here… right now."

"Oh, I don't know maybe… five galleons," Ron replied.

"Okay… Harry, what about you?" asked Draco.

"Erm… yeah, five. I got five galleons, too," he stuttered. It was obvious that Harry's family had far more money than Ron's but he never liked to boast about it. In fact, Harry was sure he had about twenty-five galleons scattered around his suitcase.

"What about you, Draco?" Ron asked. "How much you got?"

"Ten," Draco replied, defiantly. "But… best make it five."

"Best make what five?" Harry questioned.

"The bet," replied Draco.

"The bet?" Ron asked. "What bet?"

"The bet that I made up," said Draco. "The bet that I made up and we're all going to take part in."

"Okay…"

"Look," Draco began, "can we all agree that we find Granger the slightest bit attractive?"

"Yep," Ron agreed.

"Sure," Harry said.

"All right, we have a bet with Granger in it," Draco said.

"Does she know about this bet?" Ron asked. "Is there something going on between you two?"

"No," Draco scowled. "The idea is we all try to seduce Granger—"

"—But she hates us," Ron cut in. "She won't have anything to do with us."

"I know, Ron, that's why it's interesting. We have to win her trust, we have to befriend and then… we bed her… before the end of the semester. First one to do so gets fifteen galleons," Draco explained.

"No, no, no," said Harry. "That won't work. First off, I'm pretty sure Granger's a virgin and I really don't wanna be the one to take 'deflower' her and second off, one of us could just come up and say we nailed her."

Draco frowned. He hadn't thought of that. But, then again, thinking for him isn't a regular occurrence.

Suddenly—light bulb take two. "We get Hermione to admit it," he said, finally.

"Come on!" Ron said. "She's like… really private. I bet if she snogged someone she wouldn't even tell Ginny. She's way too personal—trust me."

Draco's eyes lit up. He spoke only one word. "Veritaserum."

It didn't occur to any of them that in order to have Veritaserum you must steal in from Professor Snape's office first. If you were caught, if could result in you being expelled. However, the idea of money and a fair-looking girl put together was just too enticing. It wasn't until Ron spoke only two simple words that everything started.

"I'm in," he said, digging around in his pockets and throwing a pile of gold coins on the common room table.

"In," Harry said, throwing his money near Ron's.

The two looked at Draco expectantly, half-wishing he would back out and it would be fair play between Harry and Ron. But Draco's face broke into a smile as he threw down his share. "What the fuck's wrong with you? I'm in!"

And so it begins.

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Okay, just to clarify this is total AU. Draco is not Gryffindor material. Ron and Harry HATE Draco and vice versa. And Harry and Ron are not cruel to Hermione and do not call her Granger. See, it's fun when it's less predictable.

**Five reviews!**

**Thank you—**

**Jordan **


	2. Two: Revelations

OK, I'm done with the introductions. You know what you're reading… hopefully. Let's just get down to it—

Like Another Teen Movie—Chapter Two

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"Hermione! How absolutely corking to see you!" Draco said as he approached the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall the following morning. The Gryffindors stopped the regular morning gossip and turned to stare at the blonde-haired boy. He winked at Harry and Ron and sat down in the usually empty seat next to Hermione.

"Hmm," was Hermione's reply. She was reading—as usual—however, it seemed she had finished the one Ron couldn't read and was now reading something that was perhaps written in 18th century English. In short, the title phrase wasn't in Draco's vocabulary.

"Hmm… yes, how very observant," said Draco, slowly. It seemed he was taking one word at a time. However, Hermione simply let her mouth form a sort of half-smile and she continued reading. Draco looked to Harry and Ron for support but they were looking everywhere but him. Ron was focusing entirely on his egg whites and Harry was trying to polish his glasses. Harry _never _polished his glasses—that's why he often ran into walls.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek. "Hermione!" he said suddenly.

Her eyes slowly met his and she gave him a polite smile. "Yes, Malfoy?"

Draco chuckled. "Please… call me Draco."

Hermione suddenly let out a small tinkle of laughter. "Please… grow a brain." And with that Hermione gathered her things and marched out of the Great Hall.

"And how would I go about doing that?" Draco called after her. He sighed and turned back around to face his fellow Gryffindors. Ron and Harry were staring at him open-mouthed. Lavender Brown was looking quite hurt, in a sort of you-choose-the-outcast-before-me look. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were letting out random snorts in between loud shouts of laughter. Neville Longbottom had begun asking the Creevey brothers if he was dreaming or not.

Draco stared defiantly back at them. "What?" he said.

Lavender stood up. "Oh, come off it, _Malfoy_! At least _I_ own a hair straightener!" She stalked away, Parvati Patil following closely behind giving her the-boys-are-scum pep talk.

Dean and Seamus ignored the inquiry and began imitating the entire act they had just witnessed.

Ron looked at Draco for a very long time. Finally, he said, "Now, I'm going to ask you this once and you better give me a straight answer—were you or were you not dropped on your head as a child?"

"And that concludes our lesson today," Professor McGonagall announced, tapping her wand on the pin cushion turned hedgehog and muttering the counter-spell. "I expect your Animagi essay on my desk by Monday!" she added over the hustle and bustle to get out the door.

Hermione Granger was the last, as she stopped by to ask Professor McGonagall a few questions about today's lesson. She then pulled out a roll of parchment from her shoulder bag. "I, uh, I've finished your essay."

Professor McGonagall took it from Hermione's outstretched hand and placed it carefully on her desk. "It was assigned yesterday, Miss Granger."

"I – I know," said Hermione, turning scarlet. "It's not like I had anything else to do," she added, sheepishly.

"Ah, yes," said Professor McGonagall. "Miss Granger, please take a seat (Hermione did so). Now, I understand your sixth year you are under much stress, however… however, I have noticed your lack of… socialising."

Hermione's eyes widened. She'd noticed? "Old McGonagall" as she was known, had noticed her lack of "socialising"? Well, that's more than a tad embarrassing.

"Er… is that a problem?" Hermione questioned.

"Oh, no," said Professor McGonagall quickly. "It's wonderful that you focus solely on your studies… but I do remember your first year… you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley were as thick as thieves. And then they befriended Mr. Malfoy…"

"Oh, you know," Hermione shrugged. "Boys will be boys."

"That saying is horrible, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said. "It's quite harsh in a way."

Hermione looked at her feet. "It's the truth," she said quietly.

"Ah… yes, well… you best run along for lunch," Professor McGonagall said, letting her glasses fall to the end of her nose. "Have fun."

Hermione nodded and quickly left the Transfiguration room. How was she was supposed to have fun when she was labelled as a "loser" or an "outcast", among other things. It wouldn't have been so bad if she'd had friends. However, that was not the case. Her _friends _had deserted her during their second year for a nasty blonde-haired twelve-year-old and that was how it had stayed for three long years. But she wasn't bitter. Oh no.

"Hermione!"

Their last lesson (Potions) had just ended and Hermione was hoping to get the library early to research her essay for Professor Snape, the Potions master. It was about something or other mixed with something else… or other. It didn't faze her too much—she would understand it better when she had read about it in a good old fashioned book. But for now she would yell at the annoyance calling her name.

"Hermione!" the voice repeated. She turned and was face to face with Ron Weasley, who was grinning like an idiot.

She glared at him. "Go away."

"Why?" he asked, looking dejected.

"Because I hate you," Hermione replied. "And I have homework to do."

A wave of realisation seemed to wash over Ron's face. "Ah… nothing ever really stands in the way of you and books, does it?"

Hermione ignored him and began to walk out of the dungeons. Ron called her name once more.

"What?" she asked annoyed.

"I want to talk," he said.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "Talk? Talk about what?" The last time Ron had "wanted to talk" he had sat her down and told her in his most serious voice that he had feelings for her. Hermione hadn't yet absorbed the information, when Ron began choking with laughter and screaming that she'd been played. He then went off to high-five a howling Harry and Draco.

Ron stared at Neville Longbottom, who was still packing up his supplies, and waited until he had disappeared through the dungeon door. Ron and Hermione were now the only two in the dungeons. "Uh… I just wanted to say… that I was…" He trailed off and focused on a moss covered growth on the dungeons walls.

"Yes?" Hermione prompted, impatiently.

"I was… I'm sorry, Hermione," he finished. "I'm sorry for leaving you, I'm sorry for lying to you, I'm sorry for making fun of hair… I'm just… I'm truly, truly sorry."

Hermione laughed. Ron frowned at her. "I'm serious, Hermione!"

"You're serious? So were you just being serious when you made me look like an idiot countless times in front of all my peers?" she questioned, with a raise of her eyebrows.

"Hermione…"

"Don't!" Hermione snapped. "You had your chance. Both you and Harry and then you had to make friends with that stupid little git… no, it doesn't matter. You're not worth it. You never were."

She pushed open the dungeon door and hoisted her heavy shoulder bag over her shoulder.

"You can't stay mad at me for ever, Hermione!" Ron called after her.

"No. But I bloody well try," said Hermione, slamming the door behind her.

Five reviews. Or more. Your choice—

Jordan


	3. Three: Burn

Wow. OK. So… I love your logic—ask for five reviews and you get nineteen. This time I'm asking for ten.

Like Another Teen Movie—Chapter Three

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That night Hermione sat in the common room alone putting the finishing touches on Snape's essay. After re-reading it twice and correcting a number of "errors" that Snape would use against her, she rolled it up and popped it into her shoulder bag.

Hermione stretched and looked at her watch: 1: 56. She muffled a yawn and slowly rose from her position at the desk in the far corner before making her way up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Her foot was on the first step when she heard a voice.

"Hermione!"

She rolled her eyes and took her foot off the step before turning around. "H – Harry," she said, surprised. And it was, indeed, the Boy Who Lived. There was no sign of freckles or flaming red hair or laughable apologies. "What do you want?"

"I want to talk…"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"If I talked would you listen?" Harry asked. He was standing in the middle of the common room and was still wearing the clothes he wore earlier. His glasses were lopsided and his hair was as unruly as ever. Hermione remembered when she used to think that look was cute.

Hermione flopped down onto the nearest and oldest sofa and shrugged. "Depends. If you talked about broomsticks, you can be sure I'll fall asleep on you."

Harry laughed and slowly made his way over, sitting at the far end of the same sofa. "You're safe there. Actually, I, um, wanted to talk about us."

Hermione frowned. "Us?"

"Er… well, not _us_ as in, you and me," said Harry, hastily. "I mean, us as in, you, me and Ron—but… but not in that way!"

Hermione nodded. "Well, what can you really say about… me, you and Ron?"

"We were friends," said Harry.

"Right," Hermione said. "_Were_."

"It must have been hard," Harry said.

"You have no idea." Hermione suddenly felt very uncomfortable. There he was, good old Harry, being all nice and kind and manly. _But that's because his friends aren't around_, a little voice inside her head reminded. _Remember what a prick he is when his friends are around?_

"I'm tired," said Hermione, shortly. "I'm going to bed. Good night." She stood up and sighed. Harry followed.

"Look, I feel terrible—"

"Good," Hermione snapped. "Why don't you dwell on that while I get a good night rest?" But that didn't seem enough. This whole thing could not be entirely coincidental. "And while you're at it, ask yourself why it took three good years to have the courage to come up and apologise! Guilt getting too much for you, Harry? If it is don't expect me to be your sympathetic shoulder to cry on. I stopped caring about you a long time ago." And with that Hermione stopped upstairs, leaving Harry to dwell on that conversation.

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Friday's lessons went by rather quickly. Harry and Ron managed to avoid Hermione's eye, while Draco had discovered a new tactic: annoying questions. Throughout the day, both in the Great Hall and during their lessons, he had approached Hermione many times asking her what her favourite fruit was, what is her idea of an ideal date, where does she see herself in ten years… he even managed to squeeze in a few "describe yourself in three words or less". And while Hermione had answered all of these questions with a simple "Sod off", Draco didn't really back down until he asked her what sexual position she favoured the most—this time Hermione replied with a slap, a "Fuck off, you disgusting pervert!" and a blow to the head before a stunning exit. All Draco had now was a bruised ego, a sore noggin and a red face ("It matches your hair, Ron!" Harry had pointed out).

After their last lesson, which incidentally where was the head banging and face slapping had occurred, Hermione had retreated to the library still fuming over Draco and his questions. What is it with boys? Harry and Ron trying to make up for something they—up until now—hadn't showed any remorse about. Draco making an attempt and flirting and perhaps getting to know her better. Unless they were under a spell, Hermione supposed it was their raging hormones, which had taken a bloody long time to kick in.

Hermione opened up her Herbology textbook and flicked to page 17. She read the assigned work and grabbed a long piece of parchment before scribbling down all she could remember—and then she heard the voices.

"How far have you gotten?" said a familiar voice.

"Not even close. She's like a closed book—pardon the pun," said another familiar voice.

"Don't worry, mate, we've still got a few weeks yet. She'll come around," said the other voice.

"And if not?" said the second voice.

"Then we get her really, really drunk," the first voice said.

Hermione leaned back in her seat and saw Harry and Ron chuckling all the while looking around for anyone who was listening. She immediately ducked under the table as they walked out of the aisle they were standing in, still laughing and then left the library with a quick look back.

_Oh, those boys!_ Hermione fumed. _How can they talk about a girl like that? And that girl—that poor girl? I have to tell her. But how? It's not like I have mystical powers or anything. How can I know which one it is? And is Draco involved? He must be. Oh… they're horrible, horrible things—_

"Hermione!"

Hermione turned and offered a weak, small smile. It was Lavender Brown, who was waving her over. Hermione quickly stood up and walked over to Lavender, who was sitting with Parvati Patil and Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. "Er… hi, everyone!" she said.

"Yeah, hi," was the mumbled response of the others.

"Don't mind them," said Lavender, "look, I wanted to ask you something."

"Shoot," said Hermione.

"Is there anything going on with you and… uh, Draco?"

Hermione snorted. Then giggled. "No. No. No. No. No. No in the Land of No."

"So… no?"

"Yeah," said Hermione. "Why?"

"Well… I like him and I wanted to make sure you didn't have a claim on him," Lavender explained.

"Nope. No claiming."

"Look… do you want to come out with us on Saturday night?" Lavender asked.

"Who's going?"

"Oh, you know, them," she said, indicating towards Parvati, Dean and Seamus, "and Harry, Ron… Draco."

"Right… yeah, I – I can't," said Hermione.

"What?" Lavender's face fell. "Why – why not?"

"Ah…" Wait. Screw the raging hormone nasty little red-faced pig boys. McGonagall had said she needed a social life. Well, socialising here she comes. "No, no reason. I'll come."

"Cool!" Lavender squealed. "Oh, and wear something slutty."

"Um…"

"Or borrow my clothes. You're a size… 8?"

Hermione shrugged. "I can try."

"Great! Well, um, meet us in the common room tomorrow at nine," said Lavender.

"P.m?" Hermione asked.

"The clubs aren't open in the morning," said Lavender.

"We're going to a club?"

"Yeah. Well, I have to study, but… just come by earlier for your clothes—what am I saying? We share a dormitory!" Lavender laughed. Then she bid Hermione goodbye and sat down next to Parvati.

Of course. What else could "going out" mean? Hermione didn't think Lavender Brown snuck out to help the elderly on Saturday nights. How long had this been going on? How long had this been going on without Hermione being invited? Unless… Harry and Ron had something to do with it. But let's not decline. Let them see Hermione in a LBD and let them drool and let them beg.

On Saturday night Hermione Granger was not going to be just plain old Hermione Granger. She was going to be Hermione Granger with friends.

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I'm serious. Ten reviews—

Jordan

Oh, and please check out my other story Arrows. I've only received two reviews for the first chapter and was actually looking forward to developing it into a nice, long story. Please! Once you've done with this – check out Arrows. Thank you again.


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